Oh Ion nin!
by Dagorloth
Summary: Vignette. Having recently returned to Imladris from yet another misadventure, Aragorn is about to come face to face with a different form of thrashing: a lecture from his mother…


**Oh _Ion-nin_!  
****By:** Rai  
**Rated**: G

**Author's Note:** I have always been somewhat disappointed at the way so many seem to effectively write out Gilraen from their stories. However, I cannot help but feel as if people are missing out on something. That being, who else but a mother can give you those heated, angry rants that always come when you do something foolhardy, and need I list the many misadventures that many fanfiction writers have effectively written Aragorn into so making him deserving of such a scolding?  
So here's to all you fanfiction writers who likes writing Aragorn into tough scrapes! I hope you feel ashamed as to just what kind of trouble you have gotten him into! -snickers-  
**Spoilers:** The true identity of Aragorn is divulged so there are some spoilers to _Fellowship of the Ring_ but that is about all.  
**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner or creator of Middle-earth, nor am I the owner of any of the characters mentioned thus. Grammatical errors are my own as are spelling errors and canon inconsistancies. (which by the way, thank you to Crystal113 for point out that anomaly and I have since corrected it)  
Please observe that this is based on the presumption that Aragorn and Legolas were friends before the War of the Ring. In addition, it also plays with the idea in which he refers to Lord Elrond as his father (Ada) and Elladan and Elrohir as his brothers. Seeing as he did come to Rivendell at the age of 2, it is not so far a stretch that such a thing could come to pass.  
And finally, I assumed that Legolas' mother, like Celebrian, already crossed over to Eressea.  
**Synopsis:** Having recently returned to Imladris from yet another misadventure, Aragorn is about to come face-to-face with a different form of thrashing: a lecture from his mother…

* * *

Gilraen was not impressed. To speak truthfully, she was absolutely livid as she stormed her way down the halls of Lord Elrond's home in Imladris, her eyes furrowed and dark, caring not for the splendour or the glory that was the beautiful abode in the summer as she traversed through the gracefully built halls of the elves. She did not glance at the waterfalls dancing in its white wispy veil, the sun sparkling in a spotless sky, and the colourful terrain that painted Rivendell's lush valley, laid out like a magnificent masterpiece, calling to her. 

But she paid no heed to the beauty that had so often taken her breath away. She had more important matters to attend to.

Her long graceful red dress swished hurriedly as she picked up her pace, knowing well that she was nearing the hall in which those rooms that those who dwelt beneath the Last Homely House's roof resides in, and where the one that had her in her currently sour state of mind was.

A tall dark haired elf, his body lithe and full of youth suddenly appeared from beyond the doorway of one of the rooms, his eyes glazed as if deep in thought. He looked somewhat weary and drained as he shook his head to himself before he raised his eyes to find Gilraen standing before him, herhands at her hips. So preoccupied he had been that he had not noticed her stop upon seeing the son of Elrond Halfelven, the Lord of Imladris.

His eyes widened as he bowed stiffly at the lady. "Good afternoon, Gilraen. I trust the day goes well for you?"

He cringed at her response, a response that had nothing to do with the question he presented to her. "He is awake, is he not?"

The elf shifted uncomfortably, refusing to look Gilraen in the eyes, though he did not need to look at her to know that she was glaring at him, her face contorted in a rather irritated frown, and if she had been feeling particularly impatient at the moment, she probably would have been tapping her foot too. Though she did not give any names, he knew who she was referring to and he could not help but feel a great wave of pity for him. So the elf kept his silence, hoping that Gilraen will not question him further and either move on or turn around, though it really was a vain desire.

As he had suspected, it was not to be so. "Elrohir, I asked you a question!" she snapped.

Elrohir sighed. She was bound to know sooner or later. She was Estel's mother after all. He just was not sure Estel was prepared for the verbal thrashing his mother seemed all too ready to serve him right now. Lord Elrond and the others had only just drawn Estel from the coma last night.

"Gilraen," he began softly, "Estel has only recently woken up from a long and weary journey…"

"It was long and weary because he was foolish enough to get himself captured by Orcs for…" she paused as she thought a bit, "was this the eighteenth time in the last five years?"

"Twenty-third actually," muttered Elrohir absently with a wry grin. "You were not here to see the other five times Legolas or Estel dragged themselves back to Imladris."

Immediately Elrohir wished he did not correct her as her face seemed to darken considerably at the unexpected increase in her son's encounters with Orcs. "Twenty-_three_?" she hissed in such a tone that left even Elrohir feel shaken and small. "Aragorn, my _son_, was foolish enough to get in trouble with Orcs not eighteen times as I had thought, but _twenty-three times_?"

"Gilraen," started Elrohir quickly, trying to make amends, to soothe her ill-tempered state, but she merely shoved the elf aside so that he was nearly sent sprawling as she took up her skirts and raced down the hallway towards Estel's room at the other end. He called desperately after her, but she paid no heed to his desperate calls as she made her way to the slightly open door that was her son's room.

Estel was seated in the bed of the room that had been his since childhood, his eyes staring peacefully beyond the window and into the meadows of the fair ravine that was Imladris, a soft smile caressing his lips as his mind lingered on the sweet, comforting smells and sounds of a home that he held so close to his heart. His hands were heavily bandaged and his left eye was nearly swelled shut from his most recent misadventure, and that was saying nothing of the many scratches, bruises and stitches he had beneath his covers and clothing. But though he was sore to the touch, he was happy, for he was home.

Suddenly his door burst open, slamming into wall as it swung on its hinges, and Estel's head jerked around, in such a way that he inhaled quickly as a wave of pain swept him like an angry tide at the sudden movement, his eyes blinking quickly so to stave the tears. As he put a bandaged hand to his sore head, he tried to focus his right eye so to see who had entered. "Ada?" he said softly.

His eyesight cleared gradually, his gaze falling on the one who had entered his room, her long, dark brown hair pulled back in a loose bun, a soft, dark red gown gracing her figure, its soft silks shimmering in the sunlight that filtered into his room. Comprehension dawned on him and he could feel the blood drain from his face as he realized who precisely it was that stood in his doorway, her arms crossed and her face flushed as she glared down at her only son.

_Oh Valar_, he thought helplessly as he quickly released his head so to draw his blankets up to his chin, as if it could protect him for what he knew was inevitable. _Not another lecture!_

"Twenty-three," she snarled as she stormed into the room, stopping at his bedside. "_Twenty-three!_"

Estel tried hard to smile up at his mother, though he would have liked nothing more than to sink into the bed beneath him. "Nana," he said weakly, "How is everything going of late? Are you keeping busy?"

Estel shrank back against his headboard as his mother began her predictable and traditionally heated lecture, her voice ringing shrilly. "How is everything of late? Well everything is absolutely perfectly normal, seeing as my son continues to insist coming home to Rivendell every _single _time in some state of unconsciousness not to mention near death so that the Lord Elrond can fix you up once again! Yes, I'd say everything is perfectly _normal,_ Aragorn, although I would prefer it if for once you'll return without some scratch you've managed to acquired from simply _walking_!"

"Mother, I…"

"In addition," she snapped, cutting off Aragorn's protest with an angry glare, "I am keeping very busy I'll have you know. Busy constantly worrying about you, wondering what Orc pit you've managed to get yourself trapped in, busy wondering what riverbed you've been washed up on, busy wondering what scrape you've gotten yourself into once more, and busy wondering if you still _breathe_, considering your foolishness!"

"Nana, please…"

"Aragorn, you are not fifteen anymore," she snarled. "You are twenty-five, full grown though not completely I shall give you that. But I would think at twenty-five you would not be so careless or mischievous as to procure as much trouble as you do! What have I told you about being responsible? Being mature? Of course what am I thinking, you know not of what I speak!"

Aragorn moaned as he tried hard not to draw his covers over his head so to enclose himself beneath it, knowing well such an action will only garner an even more heated response from his mother.

"It is as if you have not matured since your years as a youth!" she continued as she began to pace the side of his bed, her arms held behind her, throwing angered glances at her son. "I have told you time and time again that your fool-hardy ways will have you swiftly slain, and that you must be more careful than you are now. Of course you may think what does a woman know of the Wilds? Well I'll have you know, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, that woman though I may be I am still a Dunedain and I am well aware of the dangers of the Wild! And this is why I tell you to be cautious!"

Aragorn silently began counting down from the number ten, able to predict the precise moment his mother would go off into a long continuous spiel over him being Isildur's Heir and the future of Men in the West.

"You ought to be more cautious than most rangers even, for you are Isildur's Heir!" declared Gilraen right when Aragorn reached the number one. "You are the last of his line, Aragorn! The only one left with claims to the throne in Gondor and Arnor. Do you even realize what a catastrophe it would be if you were to be slain? We may as well hand Sauron Minas Tirith if you perish!"

Aragorn could not help but roll his eyes. "Mother, I do believe you may be exaggera-"

"Do not interrupt me, Estel!" she snapped, causing Aragorn to jerk at the tone used. "You may be the future King of Gondor and Arnor but I am still your mother and you will not interrupt me is that clear?"

"Yes, Nana," said Aragorn sullenly, wishing for something, anything, that would bring this lecture to an end. Even an Orc attack on the fair valley would be preferable than having to continue to endure his mother's wrath.

"Do you have any idea what importance you carry? The burden?" she hissed. "As Isildur's only remaining heir only you can take up the sword of Elendil once more, its shards reforged! Only you can lead mankind from darkness and distrust to a new and higher order unlike any before seen since the days of Numenor. You know this, Aragorn; I daresay you are well aware of this!"

Oh Aragorn was aware of this, and has been aware since the day Lord Elrond revealed it to him when he had turned twenty years of age. And it was since that day he had been carrying that knowledge on his shoulders, some days with pride, other days with only remorse. He was proud of his lineage, but there were days when he wished he was nothing more than a simple hobbit carefree of the toils and worries that plagued him day by day, or even simply a normal ranger, having only to worry for the protection of others, as opposed to worrying over his uncertain future.

"So I do not understand why you continue to immerse yourself in such foolish escapades as you have of late!" she berated as she turn on him, her hands on her hips. "_Eight_ times you have been brought home to us at Mandos' door, ready to pass on and leave your people to whatever dark fate Sauron has planned for us once he regains dominance over Middle-earth!"

Actually the number was closer to twelve, but Aragorn was not about to let his mother know that at any rate. It would probably only make her explode in anger.

"Are you even aware of the consequences of your premature death on this world, _ion-nin_?"

Aragorn could not help but smile ruefully as his mother began to repeat her points, a sign that usually meant that she was winding down and would soon leave him be.

"Why are you smiling? This is not a smiling matter, Aragorn. What is so funny about you dying by the hands of fifty or so Orcs as they tear you to shreds and consume your raw flesh because you were so foolish as to let them capture you?" she snapped as she glared at Aragorn, who shrank back, the small upturn on his lips disappearing swiftly.

"I worry over your intelligence some days, Aragorn!" Gilraen continued, and Aragorn bit back another moan, realizing that his lecture was far from over. "There are days you show all the wisdom of your forefathers, and then there are days you seem about as wise as some goblin from the deep holes of the Misty Mountains! Do you have no sense of self-preservation and understanding in the Wild? At this point and time I would not be surprised if you were not merely attacked by Orcs but actually walked casually into their den, looking for trouble no doubt, and not thinking clearly either!"

Actually, Aragorn had on two of his encounters with Orcs walked into their dens, though it was purely accidental and in no way was he doing it casually, nor was he searching for trouble. To him it seemed the more accurate assumption would be that trouble often went looking for him. But of course, that part was not something he was about to tell his mother either, lest it induces a prolonged sentence with her motherly temper.

"Carelessness and stupidity! I would have thought better from my own son." She frowned angrily at Aragorn. "I would have thought better from the Heir of Isildur. At this rate I would woe the day you truly do reclaim the lost thrones of Gondor and Arnor if this is the kind of intelligence and understanding their _King_ has!"

Aragorn stiffened at the words. He knew his mother did not mean such things, considering the rage she had built herself up to, but it still stung to hear her say it. It was precisely one of the many things that made him feel as if he was unworthy to retake any crown from any land.

"And I would think you would better set an example on others," she continued. "I would think living with elves would make you more aware of your mortality and so make you more careful of how you live your life, but if anything it seemed to have had the exact opposite effect. Of course, by all rights, Elladan and Elrohir are perhaps the absolute worst role models for you in that respect, as they seem to act as much the fool as you do at times and seem even less concerned for their safety as you…"

Aragorn had to bite back a laugh at the mentioning of his two older, elvish brothers as _role models_. At least she was right about one thing; they were indeed the worst of all role models, being part of the reason why he got into so many scrapes so often. He would not have been surprised if he had inherited the trouble from them, having heard many a story in the Hall of Fire of the scores of trouble the two had often gotten themselves into since the day they were able to wield a blade, and even before that.

"But I would hope you would set a better example for your friend Legolas, especially since he is Prince of Mirkwood and so requires extra caution when travelling with him, lest the both of you fall into darkness and then what is the world to do?" growled Gilraen at her son as she looked levelly at Aragorn. "But apparently _that_ idea was wishful thinking considering what has happened since you've met each other. It almost seems as if your trouble doubled upon the encounter!"

Aragorn forced back a smile that tugged on his lips at the mentioning of his friend, Legolas. Legolas may be Prince of Mirkwood but he hardly paid it any more heed than Aragorn did with his own heritage when they travelled. Aragorn was willing to bet that Legolas was just as bad as he was when it came to scrapes, perhaps worse. It had become a habit between the both of them to blame the other for every poor event that had come to pass between them, this last adventure being no different.

"_Ai,_ _ion-nin_ I honestly do not know what to do with you!" she growled as she at last ceased her pacings so to stand at the foot of Aragorn's bed.

"Well you can start by ending your angry speech," said Aragorn meekly, a smile gracing the edges of his lips as he realized that she had at last fallen to an end of her tirade.

Gilraen threw him a wry grin. "I was really rough on you this time was I not?"

"Absolutely vicious, Nana, as usual," he said dryly. "It almost makes me glad that you did not believe in the practice of spanking when I was young. If your hand is any harder than your tongue…"

Gilraen laughed lightly, though her eyes were sad. "Oh _ion-nin_, you know I would never do something as that to you, though lately I am becoming tempted, despite the fact that you are a grown man."

"Now _that_ would be something I would like to see," said someone mischievously as two identical, dark-haired elves peered into the doorway. "Estel being spanked by Gilraen!"

"I would not mind for such a sight as well," laughed another lightly, and Aragorn soon realized that Legolas was with Elladan and Elrohir, gracing Aragorn with a wide grin on his fair features.

Aragorn could feel his face turn beet red as he whipped a pillow in the direction of his twin brothers. But before it could reach its intended target, Gilraen snatched the pillow skilfully from the air. "What have I told you about pillow fights Estel?" she scolded. "Do not abuse Lord Elrond's furniture!"

"It's not furniture it's bedding," grumbled Aragorn huffily, looking away from the three elves as they laughed softly behind their hands. "And Ada said that this was my room…"

"Do not try to correct me, Aragorn!" she snapped. "You will respect what furnishing that is given to you do you understand?"

"Yes mother," he breathed as he gave Legolas a wearied grin, who returned it with one of his own.

A soft smile formed on Gilraen's face as she bent down and kissed her son on the forehead. "_Onen i-Estel Edain_," she whispered to him lovingly, watching a lopsided smile creep up onto his face as he recognized the familiar quote of hers. "But it is now his responsibility to see to it that my Estel remains their hope, and their salvation." She straightened as she placed a gentle hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "Just promise me that you will be more careful from now on _ion-nin_, so I would not have to lecture you again."

"I will try mother, but with Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas to constantly draw me into unwanted grief, I can give you no promises," he said seriously.

Elladan sputtered abashedly. "What?" he cried. "How is it that we are the reason why you are almost killed every time you step beyond the boundaries of Imladris?"

"Shall I give you the short list or the long, Elladan?" teased Aragorn lightly.

"Why you…" started Elladan as he marched into the room, ready to grab Aragorn when Gilraen took hold of Elladan's wrist and swung him around and away from her son. "He is still recovering from his last adventure," she hissed. "So no horseplay understand, son of Elrond? I do not think I need to remind you of the last time you nearly killed my son because you decided to play games with him when he was still healing from his last bit of foolishness!"

Elladan tried to find an appropriate retort to the statement, but by looking Gilraen in the eyes, her ice blue gaze penetrating sharply into his own grey ones, he thought better of it.

She released the elf's wrist, giving her son a small wink. "I will bring you dinner, son. You must eat so to more swiftly regain your strength." And with that she strode out of the room, humming softly.

Legolas stared mildly at Gilraen's retreating form. "I think I understand your meaning by your mother having a rough tongue," he muttered lightly at his human friend, amusement shining through his grey eyes. "I actually felt pity for you having heard most of it from next door."

"That is my Nana for you," said Aragorn sullenly as he closed his eyes, letting some sense of calm cascade over him now that his mother had left. "I will not tell you the number of times I had had to listen to that same speech."

"Gilraen means well when she lectures you, Estel," said Elladan softly, a small sad smile on his lips. "You know she loves you more than anything in this world, and so is angry at how often she had come close to losing you." He blinked as he peered out the window into the ravine beyond the Last Homely House.

Aragorn smiled up at Elladan slightly. "I know," he replied quietly, "which is why I do not grudge her the tiresome tirades. I love her dearly as well, and would trade her with no other, though I do wish she found a less headache-inducing method to get her point across," he added wryly.

Aragorn may not much love his mother's scolding ways, but as he looked up at Legolas leaning against his door, seemingly lost in his own private thoughts, a slight yet cheerless smile on his face, and Elladan and Elrohir, having moved onto the edge of his bed and were now staring sadly up at the Misty Mountains to the south, he realized that he should be glad he even had a mother here to comfort him. He knew by the looks on their faces that the three elves dwelt in a time long past, when their mothers were still with them, before they crossed the Sundering Seas to Eressea.

Elladan was suddenly drawn from his thoughts as a small side pillow collided with his head, the object bouncing softly on the linen surface as Elladan threw the young ranger a glare, to which the Man returned with a rather dignified scowl.

"That was for that comment about me being spanked by my mother!" he growled.

A dangerous glint formed in Elladan's expression as he took hold of the small piece of bedding that Aragorn had used to catch his attention. "What did your mother say about respecting the furniture?" he retorted in a low voice.

Aragorn grinned widely. "I told her this is bedding not furniture, so it doesn't count, Elladan," yelped Aragorn as he ducked his head to the side so to avoid the pillow that was thrown back at him.

Gilraen paused slightly, her hands full with a tray of food for Aragorn plus some more for his elven brothers and friend, listening at the laughter that came from her son's room. She also noted wryly at the way several feathers floated out from beyond the doorway to rest in the hallway beyond it.

"Oh _ion-nin_!"

**The End**


End file.
